Believing in the Other
by in versailles
Summary: [FrankxOC] Cass and Frank meet by accident, and by an even bigger accident, get themselves pulled into a whirlwind of an adventure.
1. The Race

**Disclaimer: **I don't own hidalgo or Frank. Wish I did, but I don't. I do, however, own Callista Santiago and anything related to her, such as family, past, etc. x3 If I owned all that other stuff, then I'd be rich. And very happy. But I'm not.

This is not historically correct. Frank T. Hopkins never actually met this girl, nor did he ever take part in the plot given. Nope. It's all my overactive imagination doing the work. X3

There was a Prologue to this, but it was taken down. It seems that the character that this was originally going to be in this story is considered a Mary Sue. And if that person thinks that they must flame again, they better damn well not give me the same crap about this chapter. And I don't know if she realizes this, but most OCs are considered Mary Sues, regardless of how descriptive their story. If they have a relationship with a canon character, they are considered Mary Sues.

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"What do you mean that I don't have a horse to ride? What about Blaze?" Frank Hopkins exclaimed, arms spread wide in frustration as he argued with the official for the race that would be starting in naught but a half hour. The race he planned to win.

Since he had let Hidalgo go less than two years ago, his racing skills suddenly had come to a halt. The winnings began to dwindle, and slowly the whiskey became his best friend again. It was only after an old friend of his, Mark Holloway, punched him one night and yelled at him to get his life back, did he begin racing again. But it still wasn't the same as racing with 'little brother'. Hidalgo was his reason to race. It wasn't about the money or the gloating he could do. It was about being able to be out there with his horse, running a race.

He had tried to move on. He had thought he had found a horse that could replace Hidalgo, named Jade. He was a white stallion, one of the highly bred ones that he was given by another old friend to ride for awhile saying 'he never had the time to ride the poor thing'. Some big fancy bloodline from the past, and a fiery temper was about what the horse was. There was a reason the horse wasn't ridden over, and Frank knew it wasn't because the poor owner didn't have time. It was because the animal was too damn stubborn to slow down when running. The horse had to be at the front of the group no matter what, even if it meant killing itself in the process.

One race later, Frank decided he needed a new horse.

That's when he had found Blaze. The brown stallion was a perfect replica of the fancy horses that you saw in children's picture books. A white star on its forehead, with a black mane and tail accented the brown of its coat. Fast and young, but it knew when to listen to the rider. And the horse he had got cheap, from the same guy who gave him Jade. This would've been the third race with the stallion, if this hadn't happened.

The black haired black mustached man blinked, furrowing his brows. "Blaze, monsieur? You mean the horse that got free--"He was quickly cut off.

"—got free!" Frank exclaimed. "HOW do you lose a horse that is that TAME?" He growled, glaring with a cold stare at the man across form him. Blaze was a very tame horse. He hadn't ever run before, but then again, these men could've been complete imbeciles and spooked the animal.

The man took a hesitant step backwards. "Um, Mr. Hopkins, monsieur, we shall get you a new horse immediately." He stumbled through the words, as if English was a different language than what he knew, and it was all because of fear. He turned, quickly leaving the small office that they had been talking in, glad that he could get away from the angered rider.

Back inside, Frank sighed, rubbing his forehead with a hand. He needed to win this damn race. The riders around here were supposed to be good enough so that if you won you could get your name sounding good again. But if this was a premonition for how the race was going to turn out, he might as well resign his position. This wouldn't look good for him at all. His career was already going downhill, so why doesn't he just pile on some more.

A few minutes of silence later, the old wooden door of the office flew open, Frank stepping out as he slipped the old cream cowboy hat back over his sandy hair. "So where is this ass with my horse?" He grumbled in a tired tone, voice gruff from the dust that was in the old room. His gaze traveled from the people walking towards the stands that were set up for the race, to the group of four people mounted, chatting with each other with their own stares at the riders warming up.

There was the sound of hooves against the dry earth, and the incoherent mumblings of the official whom Frank had blown up at earlier. Frank pivoted on his heels, rubbing his forehead, deciding it was in his best interest to not look up at the horse yet, until his mind had decided to stop trying to picture it. Of course, it wasn't the prettiest of pictures, either. A short, old thing that would barely even trot, let alone gallop like what was needed for the race.

"Monsieur?" The official finally asked, a hand playing nervously with the gold pocket watch in his pocket, the other holding the reins to the horse.

Frank lowered his hand after a few more seconds of the uneasy silence, the only sound being the stomping of the antsy stallion. He held in a sigh of relief, glad to see that the horse was at least not old, nor out of shape.

The horse could not have been more than five or six years old, though the fire in its chocolate eyes revealed the spirit of a colt. Its coat was a bay shade, patches of white on its rump. The black mane flew up as the horse shook its head in boredom, stomping a hoof against the ground again. Its tail, also black, swayed back and forth, flicking away a fly quickly, before it fell still.

Frank circled it, scratching his chin with his thumb as he thought it over. "Does he have a name?" He finally asked, eyes moving from examining the stallions legs to the official who was still standing there, mumbling.

"Oui, Thunder." He said looking up from the pocket watch he had finally pulled out. He had jumped slightly when Frank spoke again, thinking that the rider would go off on him for not bringing him a good enough horse.

"Thunder." Frank repeated, beginning to think it over again. A small smirk crossed his face, reaching his right hand out to pat the horse's neck. "Well, Thunder, looks like we've got a race to compete in." He took the reins from the shorter man, he stumbling through a 'glad you like him' speech. Frank waved his other hand to silence the man. He clicked his tongue softly, leading the horse over to saddle him up.

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"All right, here be the rundown. Henry, you run down to handle the last section. Cass, you take second to last. Justin, you take the second, and I'll cover the first." After each name and location was called, was a small nod from one of the four riders Frank had spotted earlier.

The speaker was an older man, the black of his hair beginning to show signs of graying. His old black cowboy hat, perched on the saddle horn in front of him, was lifted, set on top of his messy locks. "Ya'll get movin' now. You've gotta get a good head start from the racers."

There was a nod of heads from the other three as they broke up, steering their horses towards the track and nudging them into swift canters. Two of them took the lead, horses staying in line with each other.

"So, Cassie, why aren't' you out there competin'?" The first asked, a smirk crossing his face as he switched his jade gaze from the path ahead of him to the figure next to him. He was well built and muscular, probably a few years younger than the person next to him. Brown locks in loose curls were pulled back behind him, held in place at the nape of his neck.

"Ah, I dunno, Henry. Thought it might be nice to get to watch part of the race instead of being in the middle of it…that a bad thing?" It said, clearly the other rider being female.

She was a pretty little thing, beneath the dust and dirt already covering her and her clothes. Her hair was a mixture of blonde and brown, being dead straight, nothing very fancy. Around her face the strands got shorter as you went up, that would be left hanging if she ever pulled her hair back. The messy of locks was hidden under an old straw cowboy hat, a brown piece of braided leather being the hatband. Her eyes were a bright green, the 'exotic' color of the trees in the rainforest.

Behind them a gunshot was heard, both looking at each other, a grin crossing Henry's face in mock challenge. The other two in the party had long since stopped in their respective positions, ready to do their job of watching for cheaters in the race. Not that they usually did it. The really just wanted to see who was in the lead when the riders made it to their spot. Henry clicked his tongue, urging the paint stallion to go faster. Cass, on the other hand, slowed down, nearing her spot to stop.

"See you at the end, Hen." She called up to him, turning once the horse had slowed to a walk to the small patch alongside the track where she was stationed, waiting for the horses to fly by.

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BANG.

The shot rang out after the countdown was made, the riders nudging their horses as they took off. Frank was among the front runners, Thunder keeping up with the other horses. Frank grinned; beginning to have second thoughts on the horse who he thought would be his downfall. So far, Thunder obeyed him.

Three fourths of the race later, Thunder began to get antsy. He sped up, wanting to get even farther ahead of the group that they already had a good lead in front of. Frank pulled back on the reins gently, saying a quickly whoa, Thunder snorting and disobeying.

"C'mon Thunder, don't do this to me now." He said, followed by a slur of curses as he pulled back harder on the reins. Thunder stopped this time, however, he quickly bucked up, sending a shocked Frank through the air, his hat flying and landing not far away. Thunder just snorted, shaking his head as he ran off.

"Shit!" Frank yelled, before there was a rather sickening crunch as his head collided with a tree, everything quickly fading into black without warning.

After Frank's yell, Callista, or Cass, as she was called, blinked, stepping out onto the track, looking towards the direction of the yell. There wasn't a horse in sight, but there was a body, with blood. She cursed. "C'mon, Chase." She urged, trotting over towards the unconscious Frank. She jumped down off the horse, kneeling next to Frank as she rolled him over, he having landed face down in the dirt.

"C'mon, love." She said, arms reaching around under his armpits and hooking together across his chest, pulling him out of the way of the riders before anymore came. She clicked her tongue again, Chase obediently following. She went back to grab his hat, managing to tie it to her saddle bag.

Strength was not Miss Santiago's forte; keep in mind, so lifting him onto the horse was a rather hard thing to do. She sighed, managing to stand him up and get her shoulder in his stomach before he fell forward, arm wrapping around behind his legs and getting to her feet. After staggering a few steps she managed to balance herself somewhat, grabbing Chase's reins and with a growling 'oof', tossing him up into the saddle, grabbing him and rolling him over before he could fall off. Now, he was lying on his stomach in the saddle.

Cass grabbed the horn and the back of the saddle, flinging one leg over and managing to sit on the back of the saddle, Frank taking up the place where you were supposed to sit. She rested a hand on his back, nudging Chase into a walk, headed back towards her ranch. At least there she could give him some medical treatment for his head, which was still bleeding.

She grabbed a dagger in its case from her boot, which she had stuck there incase needed, picking up the tan sash around her waist with her other hand, cutting off the bottom of one end. She stashed away the dagger after putting it back in its sheath, applying pressure to the wound to at least stop the bleeding. "Only about fifteen minutes." She muttered, keeping the horse moving.

"Fifteen minutes."

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Author Notes: The Chapter is long, I know. X.x Sorry, I got a bit carried away with writing. Plus, I wanted to introduce Cass before the second chapter. Please R&R, and no flames. Otherwise my flame eating chicken will get a treat. X3


	2. The Girl

**Disclaimer:** I don't own hidalgo or Frank. Wish I did, but I don't. I do, however, own Callista Santiago and anything related to her, such as family, past, etc. x3 If I owned all that other stuff, then I'd be rich. And very happy. But I'm not.

This is not historically correct. Frank T. Hopkins never actually met this girl, nor did he ever take part in the plot given. Nope. It's all my overactive imagination doing the work. X3

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The Sun was quick to rise up over the landscape of South Dakota, casting golden rays onto the trees, grass, and any other object within their paths; pinks and reds spreading into the sky that would soon become a light, baby blue with small balls of white drifting lazily along. The birds had not even woken up from their sleep to greet the new day, the chirping leaving silence in the air. Occasionally, the soft breeze would ruffle the leaves of the trees or a faint whinny from one of the pastures with a horse already turned out would break through.

The light was what awoke Frank, shining straight into his eyes through the window of the room where he had been deposited. He rolled over coming close to the edge of the king size bed, an arm slumping over the side dangling towards the thick off-white rug that covered the wooden flooring of the room. A groan escaped his lips, the thoughts of going back to sleep soon vanishing to the pounding of his heart in his head.

The fallen arm was soon reached up, oblivious to the fact that he was not in his hotel room or on the race track and instead in a house where he didn't even know the owner. He was shocked to find bandages wrapped tightly around it, and no cowboy hat. Grumbling something that sounded like some curses, he reached a hand up to the wooden end table, trying to find his needed accessory. Instead, his hand wrapped around a piece of parchment that was folded in half, a loopy scrawl of his name written on it.

Frank arched a brow. Tilting his head slightly, opening it as he propped his torso up with his elbows, and now facing the iron headboard. As he slowly read it he blinked, slowly taking in what had actually happened.

_You might not remember what happened to you, but if you want answers, come on downstairs for breakfast and I'll explain._

It was _really_ helpful, no? Sliding his legs off the bed and sitting up, rubbing his eyes, he looked around. His gaze finally did land on his beloved hat, along with his newly bought gun, both resting on an old wooden table that had some papers stacked in random piles. As he walked over and picked them up, he checked to make sure the gun was loaded, keeping himself calm even though he had no idea where in the hell he was or what happened. They had to have been on a ranch, and if he was brought here and patched up, wouldn't that mean that they meant no harm?

He opened the door, the smell of cooking bacon and eggs reaching him, following it downstairs. His eyes glanced to the wall along the stairs long enough to spot a portrait of a young girl on the back of a horse, sitting sidesaddle in a dress. He arched a brow, pondering it over. Was this their daughter? It looked old, so she must've grown up by now.

He turned a corner and found himself in the kitchen of the house, radiating a mixture of smells of breakfast. He took a few more steps in, boots clicking against the wooden floors of the house.

At the stove a figure jumped slightly, pivoting on her toes as she walked over to the table with two plates piled with eggs, bacon, fried potatoes, and toast, although her gaze met Frank and stayed there. "Glad to see you're up. You took a pretty nasty fall." Her voice sounded cheerful and warm, though an edge was always as the end of each statement that was almost a warning. She gave him a small grin, taking a seat in one of the wooden chairs around the table, motioning to the one across from her. "Take a seat and dig in." She offered.

Frank took the offer up without a word, though a million more questions began buzzing in the back of his mind. He watched her for a moment before he took a bite of toast. "You mind telling me who in the hell you are and why I'm here?" He arched a brow in slight suspicion, before he looked to his plate and resumed eating.

"Callista Santiago, at your service." She said, taking a drink of water. "Friends call me Cass. I saw your spill on the course, thought it was best to get you out of there before the other riders came." There was another brief pause as she ate a few more bites. "You mind telling me what happened?"

Frank shrugged as he looked back up to the female opposite him. "Horse got spooked, he bucked, and I flew off. Nothing to it." He muttered, becoming annoyed with himself when he realized what a stupid move he had done and how bad he probably looked. "Did you find that bastard of an animal?"

"Nope, it ran off before I got there." She rested her elbows on either side of her plate, her fingers intertwining under her chin. "So, cowboy, you got a name? Or would you prefer I call you 'cowboy'?" A small smirk tugged at the corners of her lips, arching a brow slightly.

"Frank. Frank Hopkins."

Cass blinked, her face paling slightly, and if her hands hadn't been under her chin her jaw would've dropped. She was sitting across from the best long distance racer in the world. And yet, she didn't recognize him. "You…you're Frank Hopkins?" She asked. She was not only shocked that he was here, but that he was the one who had been bucked off his horse. "But…"

"What? I'm not allowed to mess up? Whoopdedo, sister, it happens. You've done it once or twice, I'm sure." He grumbled, getting rather hostile about the topic. Cass picked up on it easily, and rolled her eyes, beginning to get annoyed.

"Cool it, cowboy." She said, standing up as she dropped her fork on her plate with a clatter, picking up the plate and empty cup and dumping it in the sink. Frank followed suit, before cutting in front of her, looking down into her eyes. It was Cass who spoke, however. "You and I aren't going to work." She said, gaze not wavering from his own. When she did break away, her feet carried her to the back door, hand picking up her cowboy hat from the counter. "I'm heading to the barn. You're welcome to come." The door opened, shut, and Cass was gone.

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I love reviews, I will tell you that right now. I've been horrible with updating this story, and I'm terribly sorry for the long wait for a new chapter. I'm glad so many people like it!

**Responses**

**Butlerphan666: **Har de har har, sweetie. Yeah yeah yeah. –grin- Glad you like it. I'm going to update more…I promise.

**Ashley: **Thanks. I'll be sure to add more description in...I think I did a bit better. Have no fears, Hidalgo will be described in the next chapter or so.

**TheDukesAndPadfootsSharedCelticPuzzleStrangerRangerGrl: **I did, finally. Sorry about the wait.

**Super Becki: **Glad to hear you like it!

**Bluebonnet: **First and foremost, thank you for the long review! I'm glad you like the story. Yeah, it was fun making Cass have to struggle with Frank. I took your tip on taking out some stuff in the summary. I have some issues with flow. I think they're getting a bit better though, in this chapter, and hopefully even more better in the next.


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